Constant Death
by Perzephone
Summary: Balthazar/OC Elli/John/Angela. After Chas' death, the depressed and lonely John decides to take up a new apprentice; the average girl Cheryl Buckman, who learns the hard way that hell and heaven aren't just words from the Bible. Gothic.
1. Part One: Our Father, Who Art In Heaven

Content

Summary: Balthazar/OC Elli/John/Angela. After Chas' death, the depressed and lonely John decides to take up a new apprentice; the average girl Cheryl Buckman, who learns the hard way that hell and heaven aren't just words from the Bible. Gothic.

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Part One: Our Father, Who Art In Heaven

Mom threw me an increduclous look from across the table, looking up at the add I had cut out. I folded my arms, trying to look dignified in her all-knowing gaze. "What?" I said, snippishly.

"Cherry," I winced. God, I hated it when she called me that. "You do know that this man... he deals with the occult and whatnot? Demons? Devils? Doesn't that _bother _you?"

"_Mom._ I am not marrying him. I am going to work for him. It says, right in the ad, that I will only have to drive him around. I'll be like a taxi driver. And I get good pay, too."

"I wonder what happened to his old driver..." Mom said, lighting a black cigarillo. I groaned and lit my own cigarette. "I do wish you wouldn't smoke. You'll get cancer."

"Mum! What's that in your hand?"

"I'm old, and you're young and beautiful. Listen, why don't you go work with Tim at the supermarket down the street?" Mom suggested, eyes brightening. "That way, you can still stay at home and be _safe,_ not running around with some crackpot necromancer--"

"Jesus! Mom--"

"Don't say the Lord's name in vain."

I almost yelled at her, but I kept my mouth closed tightly.

"Listen, I'm nineteen, I've got my own license, I can stay at my friend's house--"

"Sarah! Hon, Cherry--"

"Stop calling me that!" I snapped. Mom went quiet, and I could tell from how her eyes were shining that she was getting overdramatic. "Shit." I said under my breath, rubbing my temple. Mom didn't say anything. "I'm going to move out by tomorrow morning. Send dad my love. I'll be starting work the day after tomorrow. I'll call you, okay?"

"Cheryl--"

"I'm going to pack. And I love you, mum. Seriously. And I'm going to be fine." Mom sighed hard, rubbing her aching eyes. "I mean, what can go wrong? I'm just driving him around!"


	2. Part Two: Hallowed be Thy Name

Part Two: Hallowed Be Thy Name

It was Wednesday morning when I woke up on the couch. I always pulled the blanket over my face when I slept. When I was little I was tramautized by some stupid kid show. There were these two meatheads and they meet a brain that has a finger attached to it, and it sticks its finger into your ear while you sleep and scoops out your brains. I know, it's silly, but it has become a habit that has lasted me to my adult years.

Sarah was puking in the toilet upstairs; I could hear her retching from down here. She was a bad alcoholic, which was why mom disapproved so much of me staying here. Whatever, I was an adult now, and finally out of the house with a job.

Which reminded me. I had a job. Today. I sat up, the blanket falling from my face. Golden, lukewarm sunlight splashed sidway across my face. I rubbed my eyes, trying to get the sleep out of my corneas. Yawning, I glanced at the clock ticking on the wall; it was seven in the morning.

"Oh _shit!"_ I was going to be late! I had never met my new employer face to face, just had a telephone interview and I was hired, but I know his name is John Constantine, and I have a feeling John Constantine doesn't appreciate late drivers.

I whirled around the small condo for a bit, galloping upstairs to where my suitcase was in Sarah's room. I pulled out my best clothes-- very clean and very blue jeans, a business-like red shirt and a warm black cardigan, ripping these on and doing my makeup in the dresser mirror. I grabbed my purse and keys, yelled my good-bye to Sarah, who didn't answer. I bolted down the stairs, flew out the door and scrambled into the car.

The streets had the odd car dotting it, other early-birds heading to work. I had half an hour. Constantine's office (or apartment, apparently it was above a bowling alley) was only about twenty minutes away, but I liked being at least twenty minutes early for all jobs. I had a big thing about being punctual. My dad had always been late; and that's why mum and him were divorced. I guess it always stuck with me to always be honest and be on time.

The City of Angels was slowly waking up. I passed through Old town district, with its huge, dilapitated buildings, their broken windows glinting in the dusty sunlight. Gargoyles and stone angels leered down at me from their token resting places atop old buildings and libraries, never failing to give that sense of foreboding doom. I turned on the radio, lighting a cigarette to try to quell the nervous anticipation in my stomach. I was a good driver, with a clean record and very high marks at school, so why was I worried about such a simple job?

It was probably just bad nerves; fights with my mom, moving out, a jarring wake up, and now I was speeding through this dark place. The sun was shining brightly now, high in the sky. A few clouds puttered back and forth, fluffy white marshmallows that I always thought angels sat in when I was little.

I came in front of _Bowl Bowl Bowl,_ the correct address of my new employer. I was accustomed to working in restaurants, and once a taxi service, but I had never been to my boss' home. I parked the car and finished my smoke, gulping down the last dregs of the bitter coffee I had gotten from a Tim Horton's drive-thru on the way here. I checked my looks in my pocket mirror, turned off my cellphone and looked one last time at the add. Nothing too difficult. Nothing could be worse then driving home piss drunk cakers at four in the morning.

But still. An impossibly cold, frightening chill fingered my spine, and compulsively I opened the dash compartment, pulling out my mother's rosary and putting it in my pocket. It always gave me comfort, the smooth wooden black cross dangling from the large row of red and blue beads. I took one last deep breath, tried to shake the chill, and then got out of the car.

The parking lot was empty besides a taxi, that said in big black letters on one side; _ANGEL CITY TAXI CO._ There was no one in the driver seat, and a necklace with a cross was winded around the driver mirror. I blissfully ignored the taxi, and entered through the side door. It was extremely heavy, but Constantine had said he would open it for me.

I walked through a long, dark hallway lined with posters, notifications, lost-dog/cat/person posters, and the eery silence of the place was unnerving. I came upon the bowling hall. It was kind of frightening, walking through that massive space where a lot of activity should always be going on. Licking my lips a little nervously, the acrid smell of freshly-lit matches struck my face as I came halfway through the hall. It didn't strike me as odd, just irritating and a little mysterious.

It also struck me as odd that all the lights were on. Dear Lord, if all the machines suddenly turned on in this dead silent room I would probably have a heart attack. My footsteps echoed off the walls and each echo sounded like _run run run run run_, but of course I ignored such paranoid thoughts. _Relax._ I thought. _Relax, you don't want to show up looking like you've come for your execution._ Out of the hall, into the directed door. I saw on a sign that the bowling alley wouldn't open for another hour yet, nine o clock. I checked the time myself; still had around five minutes to spare. Not good.

I churned up the stairs, having not noticed the elevator. There were only three apartments to rent out here, and apparently the other two were unoccupied. Looking at the neglected state of the hallway, I couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to live here. There were several holes in the dark plaster walls, and there was a dark brown stain on the hardwood floor that creaked under my feet. I didn't even want to think of what that stain was.

I came to the last apartment door, and took a deep, courageous breath, put on my work face, and knocked three times.

For almost a whole minute, I stood there. I was thinking about knocking again when I heard several clicks, which made me even more apprehensive. I must have heard four different locks clicking open. What kind of a person was this guy? The door creaked open after a rough pull, and out looked a middle-aged man with tussled black hair, a white face dotted with five-o-clock shadow (even though it was morning), and exhausted eyes with bags hanging under them. He was wearing a clean white shirt and a black tie, which was loose. His black trousers hung loosely off his skinny frame.

"John Constantine?" I said after a moment. The man lit a cigarette with a large gold Zippo.

"Didn't we talk yesterday?" he asked. His voice was rough and metallic. I could tell he smoked a lot of cigarettes and probably didn't talk much at all.

"Yes."

"Then obviously I am." I was a little irked at his comment but didn't dare let it show on my face. "And I presume you are Cheryl Bergen?" I nodded. I didn't know whether I should shake his hand or not. When he stepped back and opened the door wider in a gesture to come in, I stepped through. I couldn't help but notice the deeply carved scriptures indented on the door frame. I glanced up quickly. They were there too, all over them over-grafted with thick black ink. _I'm working for a drug addict. Or a psycho._ I thought, now really nervous.

The apartment was massive, with windows lining each side. Honey-coloured sunlight bathed the place, which still had its shadows. Dust hung in the air like ghosts. A large bed was shoved in one corner. A kitchen, with a green table and one chair, telling me that he lived alone. I glanced around the place. The bathroom door was open. The toilet seat was up. He definitely lived alone. There were bottles of brandy lining the shelves, amongst heaps of empty cartons of cigarettes and dirty ashtrays.

Books, scriptures, scrolls and at least hundreds of religious-looking trinkets and artifacts were strewn about the room. I looked at Constantine, who was shutting the door firmly. He didn't lock it, much to my misplaced comfort.

"Now, I don't go for the whole tell-me-about-yourself bullshit." John said lowly, settling himself down at the table. "I told you to come in this morning because we have an excorcism in two hours. Got that?" I nodded. "Your only purpose is to drive me around to these places." he was talking like he was bored off his ass. I glanced quickly around the room again. His bedsheets were rumpled beyond belief, as if he had been caught in a terrible nightmare. I looked back at him quickly after he went quiet. He was staring at me so hard I had to look away again.

"Okay." I said.

"Good." he extended his pack of smokes towards me. I took one and he lit it for me. "Maybe, if you last long enough, I'll even start teaching you the tools of the trade."

"If I last long enough...?" John stood up, grabbing a black sport jacket resting on the back of the chair. He looked at me and nodded.

"Yes."

I swallowed hard. Maybe I should have listened to mom. "You know I work in the line of excorcisms?"

"Yes."

"Do you scare easily?"

"No."

"Good. You're going to see some very scary things, Cheryl."

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For the next half hour, I sat out on the fire escape, watching people and cars stroll by as mid morning rolled around. John was getting ready for the excorcism. He seemed uncomfortable with me watching him and I felt hella uncomfortable just being in that sketchy apartment, so I cleared out into fresh air. Or what people passed on as fresh air around here; it smelled like gym socks and engine exhaust. The irony of the name 'City of Angels' could almost strike a cord of amusement in my body, but hell, this place isn't better then any other place in this earth.

I tossed my butt and stepped into the room, crawling under the windowsill awkwardly. I ended up tripping and landing right on my face. I yelped at the shock of pain in my wrist. There was a pair of shiny black shoes in front of my face and I looked up at Constantine, blushing madly.

"Get up." he said. I scrambled to my feet, trying to look dignified although my wrist and foot were aching badly.

"Sorry." I said sheepishly. The barest traces of a smile graced his face. _He's good-looking when he smiles. _I thought. _Stop staring at him._ I took my own advice.

"Time to go." I nodded and he thrust this huge, old-school doctor bag in my hands. I followed him out the door, briefly wondering if he expected me to take him in my car.

But no. We walked past the first clients of the bowling alley, mostly just old porkers trying to do something with their retirement. Most of them, if not all, gave mistrusting, angered looks in John's direction. Did he do something wrong? I got even more nervous. He lit a new cigarette and I lit one of my own this time, except when I was out the door. I was halfway between pulling out my keys for my car when John walked right around and headed for the taxi. I followed him, a little confused. He noticed.

"Long story." he tossed the keys at me and I missed them, and they landed a bit behind me. I flushed again, scooping them up. John was already in the back seat, settling himself in. I put his bag in the trunk, got in the driver seat and started the car. The taxi was familiar, that much I was thankful for.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a moment.

"143 Walter Drive. Familiar with the place?" I thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah, I've been in that area. I'll find it no problem." I backed out and started driving along. Skyscrapers lunged above me, looking like they were ready to collapse forward and crush the metropolis below. Pidgeons decorated the higher storys of the buildings. Suits, druggies and panhandlers and everyday citizens plodded back and forth along the cramped streets, a perfectly normal Wednesday in Los Angeles, United States of America.

Except, with this new profession, I had a feeling I would never see it the same way again; or any other place on earth for that matter. This city was so industrial and mechanical, it bordered on sickening, without a doubt. It took about ten minutes of weaving in and out of traffic before we arrived at Walter Drive. We cruised along. This place was high suburbs, where the more upper class people lived. We came to 143, which was maybe one step below mansion. I parked behind the black Lincoln in the driveway. I popped the trunk and looked back.

"Stay here. Don't go anywhere." John explained, getting out, looking somewhere far off into the distance.

"How long will you be?" I asked timidly. Wafts of dark energy, electric and nauseating, perfumed the air. I was a little scared just sitting here. I prayed he wouldn't tell me to come in.

"As long as this takes." he sighed, lighting another smoke and getting out of the car, shutting it loudly. I watched the hood of the trunk go up, and then it slammed down, and I saw John's retreating back. He was average height; a demanding height at the most. He was very attractive.

I turned around and looked at the quiet neighborhood with its perfectly cut lawns, homes and cars. I turned on my cell phone and played with it for a while. Around eleven thirty I was starting to get annoyed. The heat certainly rises around here. I rolled down the window and smoked almost a whole pack of cigarette. The rosary was winded around my hand, and I subconsciously said one of the many prayers.

By twelve I was asleep, my long night of talking over high school experiances with Sarah catching up to me.

I was awoken brutally by the sound of glass shattering. I jumped almost a mile, whirling around fast. The upstairs window had crashed out and someone was screaming. I debated for a moment on whether or not to get out of the car. I ended up gripping the steering wheel, weighing my options, when Constantine walked out the front door. He got in the car, and threw his bag in the front seat. His hair was ruffled badly and there was a tear in his jacket, and when he coughed some smoke came out, but he wasn't smoking. My eyes boggled out of my head as I stared at him.

"Uh--"

"Just go." he ordered roughly, lighting a smoke. "Don't ask questions."

"...Got it." I pulled out of the driveway faster then neccessary, almost hitting the curb. I hadn't realized how jittery I was in that driveway. I felt better away from that house. If John had purified whatever had been in there, I still didn't feel alright. My rosary was still wound tight aroung my wrist and hand.

"I thought you said you knew how to drive?" John drawled.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Everyone gets a little scared the first time." I was about to remark how I was never even in there, and then I remembered the dark, electric feeling in that driveway. I nodded curtly. "Stop at this diner." John instructed after a few minutes of intense silence and bad songs on the radio. It was some place called Betty's Cafe. I pulled into one of the adjacent parking spaces. "I'm going in for a coffee. You can come if you want." John was halfway out of the car whilst he said his last sentence, and I decided I didn't want to be sitting alone in a taxi outside a diner in the middle of the lunch-hour, downtown Los Angeles. I locked the cab and followed him in.

One half of the diner was packed, the other half rather dispersed. It was the smoking section. John bought me a coffee, and one for himself. He did so without asking or even a smile. I didn't want to say anything. He looked like he was in a bad mood. He hadn't changed his jacket but the pretty waitress didn't seem to mind, smiling at him and ignoring me.

Our coffees were brought and we smoked and drank in silence, until I cleared my throat.

"What exactly do you do, in there?" I asked.

John stared at me for a moment.

"Well, it starts off like this."


	3. Part Three: Thy Kingdom Come

Part Three: Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will Be Done

Listening to John explain in the short expanse of twenty minutes rocked my world. My head burned with all the information, and I was chilled by the horror and intensity of it all. I even had a little trouble believing him, even though I knew he was holding a lot back from me. As he finished, he lit a new cigarette.

"And that's what I do. Ready to quit yet?"

"No..." I replied after a moment. John grinned crookedly at the slight unsure tone to my voice. I smiled a little sheepishly. "I'll try a bit longer."

"Speak up. You're too shy." he remarked blandly. I flushed and his grin got a little wider before drifting off his face completely. "Let's go." he paid the waitress, ignored whatever she said to him, and I trundled after him obediantely, mind absorbing such information. So he goes in there, finds out what kind of demon is possessing the human, then he uses some painful way to exorcise it, including throwing mirrors out windows and forcing the possessed to drink chicken blood? Jesus _fucking _Christ. I had never heard that one before, and I had even looked up exorcisms before I decided to call.

The drive back to the apartment was mellow. John said he didn't have anymore appointments today ("But you'll be on call, here's my cell number; it's always on"). I agreed that I would come whenever he needed me. I guess demons were being a little lazy today in LA. I trundled back to my car, sitting in it for a moment, looking at the taxi a few parking spaces away. The parking lot was more or less filled up with cars and vans; birthday parties, old people, couples, friends, teenagers, probably so blissfully unaware of what could be lurking behind every corner.

I sighed and lit a cigarette. I was going to have to buy a new pack on the way to nowhere. I didn't feel like going back to Sarah's. It was _way _too early to hit the bar-- it was only one o clock-- and there was only one thing a befuddled female could do. Shopping spree.

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John watched from the window as new driver left the _Bowl Bowl Bowl _complex. He blew a plume of thick smoke out of his mouth and turned away from the window, running a hand through his greasy hair. God, he needed a shower. But, he had little too no energy. He stubbed out his cigarette in the over flowing ashtray and flopped down on his matted bed and buried his face in his pillow, groaning a little.

He thought about Cheryl. She was nothing like Chas-- she was just a young girl, looking for a way to pay the rent. Pretty. Nice figure. She almost reminded him of Angela. His mind inwardly flinched at the thought of the cop; God, he missed her. If only he could have kissed her on that rooftop. Maybe he wouldn't be so fucking mad all the time. Like he wanted to blow the roof.

Or cut his wrists.

He had been okay for a while, after kicking Gabriel's sorry ass and metaphorically spitting in Lucifer's face. He dropped smoking. Cut back on all the drinking. Hell, he was never at Midnite's anymore, looking for a cheap fuck to get him through the night. But then the shit hit the fan, and he was back to his old ways.

He had regarded Chas almost as a son, or a little brother, and my God did it ever _hurt _when he died. Although that half-breed shit Balthazar had often made homosexual comments towards John's and Chas' relationship, it was nothing like that. He loved Chas like a kid brother, but he would rather cut his tongue off with a hacksaw before admitting that.

He thought of Ellie, with her dirty blonde hair and sharp grey eyes. Her wild ways and exceptional wit. Thinking of her was even worse then thinking of Angela. Mother of God, didn't he ever need a drink... if it wasn't one thing he was thinking about, it would be the next. Everything set him off these days.

He poured himself a hard glass of whiskey and nursed it at the table, brooding and glaring out the window. A few pidgeons were hanging out on his fire escape, where Cheryl had been standing earlier today. He had gotten to take a good look at her nice ass. _She's just a baby, asshole. _He reminded himself sharply. He thought of Ellie again. He couldn't get that half-breed woman out of his mind for the past couple months-- the last he had seen her was behind Midnite's bar, where a drunk fuck had been their last meeting.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead and face hard. Fuck his life. He drank straight whiskey until the world blurred around him.

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It was around four in the afternoon and I was halfway home with a trunkful of new purchases. I had definitely cheered up, even sang along to some of the better tunes on the radio. If Constantine didn't call (which I prayed he wouldn't, I had half a mind too quit) I would maybe go clubbing with Sarah later on.

I was pulling into the driveway when my cell jangled. "FUCK." I cursed as I looked at the caller ID. I picked it up reluctantly. "Hello?"

_"Cheryl. I need you."_

"I'll be there in, like, 15 minutes."

_"Good."_

I kind of smiled at what he said. He certainly got right down to business. I threw my stuff inside. Sarah was awaiting me, throwing questions about my day, but I stated that I was going back to work and she just ogled me.

"Who the _hell _do you work for?"

"Don't ask." I replied, and was back out the door and in the car, pulling out of the driveway. I should have listened to mom, although I would cut my fingers off before admitting to something like that. I was driving back towards _Bowl Bowl Bowl,_ thoroughly agitated and dreading what would happen next.

John was waiting outside for me. I got out, and he tossed me the keys, same as before. Same routine. I drove him to the destination, but we had to wait until five. We sat in the car as the sunlight eventually faded, turning into a dreary, bright-red sunset.

"So," I cleared my throat. We had no spoken at all, unless he was giving me directions. This man was probably the most intense human being I had ever met. "What's the problem here?" John lit a cigarette, staring out the window. We were parked at the curb. The possessed occupant resided in one of the slummier parts of the city. A couple immigrants and gangsters were hanging out at the front door, accumulating. Obviously the possession had caused quite a commotion inside.

"A young boy popped out his mother's left eye earlier."

"Oh God." My face must have turned milky white.

"Yeah. Anyways, he's obviously possessed since he's climbing all over the walls and ceiling." I nodded slowly. Was he joking? No, he was too serious. I still had a little trouble believing him.

Oh well. I'm getting paid good. Don't complain. Just nod.

"Oh."

"Wait here." John said, and got out of the car without another word.

"Okay." I said, but he couldn't hear me because he had slammed the door. I popped the trunk for him, he retrieved his suitcase, and he left sitting in the car until eight o clock at night. I was half asleep, curled up in the seat. It was around eight o clock when the door was ripped open, scaring the crap out of me again. Earlier I had been walking in circles around the car, trying to dismiss the bad feelings I had gotten from the apartment building. I stood outside with one of the tenants for a bit, smoking cigarettes as I learned about the situation. Apparently John was having one hell of a rough time up there. That had been around six. They tenants left to do other things (apparently something was on fire inside), and I had retreated into the taxi. Just to be safe.

I was creeping around the glove compartment and under the seat when I found this very thick book about Demonology. I was flipped through that for a bit, but its content frightened me so I decided to try to sleep. That didn't work for a while. Just as I was about to drift off, the door was ripped open, which brings me to here.

"How was it?" I asked timidly. John almost fell in the car. He slammed it, and gave me a look that could have made hell freeze over. Some blood was crusted on his lower lip. A cut on his temple was scabbing over. He was more white then I had ever seen him. "Do you--"

"Drive. Midnite's." He lit a cigarette.

"Uh. Where's that?" he stared at me incredulously for a moment and I felt my face heat up.

"I'll tell you where to go."

I had no idea Midnite's was a bar. I thought John was so screwed up that he meant take him to 'midnight'. He looked like he had one helluva fucking time. I didn't dare ask him what had happened, although I was raging too know.

I parked behind the nightclub, which was pretty good and looked like it was raging with activity. There was a line-up to get in, but John seemed to know about a back entrance.

"Can I come?" I asked hesitantly. I myself was in desperate need for a drink.

"Sure. If you can get inside."

"I'm nineteen." I said defensively. He gave me a deadpan look and got out of the car, walking right into the bar's back entrance. I quickly locked the car and followed him. I had a feeling this place had something to do with the supernatural all too well as everything else I have seen around here today. And what a day that's been.

We walked down a wide set of stairs, illuminated by flourescent red lighting. I could see a little bit beyond the stairs a short hallway that led to the bar. The place was _packed._ A huge man stood behind a velvet rope, who immediately held up a card in front of John's face.

"One cat on a fence." he said dully. The humongous mountain of manhood let him through, and shut the velvet rope immediately, so fast that I almost walked into him as I tried to follow John. The huge man held up another card in front of me, and I stared at him dumbly, intimidated.

"Uh...I'm with him?" I pointed in John's direction. The dude stared back at me indifferently. "Huh...uhm, one cat on a fence?" the man flipped the card over. Three fish in a pond. "What the hell is this!" I demanded, trying to walk past him. I earned a rough shove to the chest that sent me sprawling on my skinny ass. "_Alright._" I snapped, getting to my feet. I tried to see John, but he had disappeared into the crowd. Thoroughly irked and suddenly realizing that John wasn't all that human, I trundled out of the place, defeated.

It was around ten thirty. I was curled up in the car, fast asleep. I know it was kind of stupid to be passed out here, but after some very strange sitting-in-car exorcism experiances and a lot of shopping and driving, I was wiped out and just wanted to sleep. I was ashamed at feeling a little homesick already. I turned off my cell, foolishly.

I woke up to hearing the door close quietly. I opened my eyes and I was staring right back into the face of an incredibly handsome man. His golden hair was slicked back, his bronze skin glinting in the mellow light of the neon sign posted above the car, shining in through the windowshield. Dressed in a power suit and striped tie, he sat there like he owned the place, while I stared at him dumbly.

"Uh, I think you got the wrong taxi." I squeaked. He chuckled. His voice was like liquid and it made a weird tingle in my lower stomach and loins. He hadn't even spoke yet!

"So, you're Johnny-boy's new toy?" he purred, moving closer to me. I squished myself into the seat. What the hell? Was this one of John's freaky friends?! He had managed to nearly get in the seat with me, and he grabbed my knees as spread them like he was going to rape me. I almost shrieked but he his eyes burned red and I got lost in them, feeling like I was being forced into relaxation. He gripped my chin with smooth, tanned fingers that were cold as ice, pushing himself up to me. His groin pressed against mine terrified me beyond words. "Aren't you a nice-lookin' one? Better then that cop bitch." he pressed the back of my head against the window.

I was dumb enough to try to fight him, and he stuck a powerful fist into my stuck, effectively knocking the wind out of me. As I writhed in agony, he purred against my neck. "He's a fool too fall in love again." The man sang, and then suddenly;

He was gone.

I collapsed, shocked and breathing erratically, into the seat, crumpled up like a wasted napkin. The worst part of it all, I was actually kinda turned on by the brief encounter. What the _fuck. _I scrambled out of the car, landing on my chin on the cold, rough asphalt and scraping it bad. I whimpered a little, scrambling to my feet and bolting inside the bar, leaving the driver side door open, the beeping tone following me. The huge guy was there, and he held up the card in front of me again. I let out some loose gibberish, and surprisingly he let me in. He must have misheard me. It looked like he was pretty doped up on steroids.

I didn't bother to wonder about my good luck, because I was looking for John. I pushed my way through the audience, and even in my fright, I noticed that no one in here was human. It looked like there were vampires sucking on something-- Jesus _Christ,_ I think that's a fucking _human-- _shit, are those _werewolves? _Demons with glowing eyes and angelic beings gazed at me, some cawing and others calling out to me.

I found John sitting at the bar, nursing a huge glass of scotch. I scared the living shit out of him as I grabbed him.

"The _fuck?_ How did you get in here?"

I didn't bother too explain. What just happened gushed out of me, and John had to steady me quite well, as I was falling over a little. I leaned against the bar, still shaking. No one dared to look at me anymore. I was with John fucking Constantine. Hell, I just wanted to go _home. _

"Shit. Jesus. Mary. Mother of God." John uttered quietly under his breath, turning back to the bartender, who was waiting for my order, completely naiive to the fact that I was in hysterics. "Sit down, and I'll get you a drink."

"B-but--" He gave me a look that made me zip my mouth up. He ordered me a powerful martini that I nearly choked on, but I gulped it down. Since I'm not much of a drinker (I was more of a pothead in high school), the hard, vicious liquor blasted through my body, warming me and calming me down. John ordered another one for me.

"What just happened," He started slowly, lighting my cigarette for me because my hand was still shaking a little too bad to do it myself. "Was that a half-breed piece of shit demon that has been following me around since I was sixteen, just came up to you and harassed you." his eyes darkened considerly. "I didn't expect that bastard to be comin' after you already." he belched a little, lighting a new smoke. Dear God, he was hammered. I downed my second drink, wincing at the horrible taste. John bought me a third drink, although I turned him down. "Shut up." he ordered. I did so.

I sipped my third drink more slowly.

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Balthazar." he growled.

"What kind of a name is _that?_" I blanched at the thought of walking around with a name like that.

"A demon's name."

And so after an hour, John decided it was time to leave. I quickly escaped to the car while he said his goodbyes to the owner of the bar, who was locked behind some huge-ass door. I remember I hadn't checked it and in a moment of massive panic I checked; thank fucking God my purse and cellphone was right where I had left them. I was checking under the car when I heard a harsh coughing.

"The hell you doing?" I looked up at John, feeling more and more like a dumbass then ever.

"Checking?"

"Take me home." He clambered into the back seat. I got in the driver's seat. I was a little drunk those hard drinks, but I had only had four. Most of the time I was observing the clientele, with a look of shocked wonder-horror on my face. John had sneered every now and then.

-------------------------

In the car, John reminisced about the night. As soon as he had sat down at the bar and ordered his first whiskey, pissed as hell that the demon had fucked him over so bad during the three-hour exorcism, did Ellie show up.

"Hey, cancer." she said mockingly, her fingers pricking along his shoulders. "How's it going?"

"Back off, Ellie." Despite his hellish mood, his voice turned soft anyway.

"Oooh, did someone have a bad day at work?" Ellie purred, nibbling his earlobe. He couldn't help but notice her attire as her lithe body suddenly wound its way into his lap. A mega short, skin tight shirt and a halter top that left nothing to the imagination-- mother of God. He was going to get a hard-on any second now.

"Jesus, Ellie, show some _decency._"

She laughed, a beautiful tinkling sound that made him shiver. He gripped her hips anyhow, running his thumbs along the slender bones. He remembered the old fire they used to have. It relit with a new light. He wanted to fuck this half-breed into the floorboards at home, but he had Cheryl in the car.

Fuckin' Cheryl. Her white-blonde hair and big gray eyes. Same colour as Ellie's. Cheryl was so pretty.

But she was nowhere near as beautiful as Ellie. Or Angela, for that matter. She was just the average chic out of high school. Nothing compared to the woman he's been with. Especially Ellie; his precious Elleanor.

"Isn't our romance like something out of Edgar Allan Poe?" Ellie said sensually, tugging on the lopsided lapels of his coat. "One of us will die in the end? Some sort of tragedy always lurking?" He almost pushed her off, hating how the sick, sweet smell of breath and perfume turned him on. Her words made him crazy. She grinded into his half-erection and that was the last straw. He picked up her tiny body and removed her completely.

"Fuck off, Ellie, not right now." Ellie giggled, and kissed his cheek. He winced and resisted slamming his mouth against hers until it bled. God, he wanted her.

"See ya later, cancer." she disappeared into the crowd, waltzing that perfect ass. He couldn't help but watch her. Neon lights and Marilyn Manson yelling from the speakers surrounded him, like a suffocating blanket. He turned back around. The bartender was grinning at him.

"Throw me another one, Jack."

"Rough night, Johnny-boy?"

"You have no friggin' clue."

And that's when Cheryl showed up.

God, Constantine hated his life.


	4. Part Four: Thy Will Be Done

Part Four: Thy Will Be Done

I drove home slowly that night. The sky was dark; there were no stars out tonight, or a moon. I preferred these kinds of nights; the complete cloud cover always comforted me. I don't know why, probably just a preference I've always had. My mind was swimming and my heart didn't finally slow down in its frantic beating until ten minutes after I dropped Constantine off. He said he would call me tomorrow if he needed me.

I was thinking of just quitting. Who the hell was that Balthazar freak? What did he want? What did John mean about him _harassing me already? _God, that had sent a bad chill down my spine. Maybe I should just call him right now and quit.

But he'd probably laugh and say that he knew I was going to call. Not that I cared, really, but something kept telling me not too. It wasn't that annoying little voice that was always telling me not to do something because it was probably a very bad idea; it was another voice, a different one that told me that I had better stay, because Constantine needed someone. The look on his face was probably enough to make anyone concerned. He looked suicidal from how he looked; an insomniac alcoholic chain-smoking exorcist probably wasn't going to be a very well-rounded individual.

So why stay? Just a few more days, hell, I'll just be extra careful. As I parked behind Sarah's van in the driveway, I fingered the rosary in my pocket. A worrying thought made my brow creased. If I had this rosary, and if there was a cross dangling from the god-damn driver mirror, how the hell did that demon get in here?

I was exhausted, drunk and confused. Fear crawled up in me as I thought about that demon. About those inhuman beings in Midnite's bar. What kind of a person was Midnite, anyways?! There was a whole other world out there, wasn't there? The world behind the world? My terror increased and I turned off the car, pulling out my rosary and kissing the black cross.

I got out of the car, locked it, and walked into the house. Sarah was sitting in the kitchen, probably on her third or fourth beer. She was gabbing on the phone, smoking a cigarette. She smiled at me when she saw me.

"Kay, I got to go, bye." she said to whoever it was on the phone, and hung up. "Get in here and tell me about your day!" she ordered, and I pulled off my jacket and threw it to the side, kicking off my shoes. I stepped into the light of the kitchen and Sarah's mouth dropped open. "_Jesus,_ you're as white as a ghost! The hell did that guy do to you?!"

_Should I tell her?_ I debated fiercely. No. She'll think you're crazy. Sarah's a devout atheist. She'd laugh at me.

"Well, I'll give you the short of it. I'm going for a bath." I almost stumbled over. Oops. I must be a little bit more drunk then I had thought. Sarah snickered.

"Shit, are you _drunk?_" she asked.

"A little. Constantine had a hard day, so he took me to a bar."

"Which one?"

"Midnite's, or something." Sarah whistled.

"How the hell did you get in there? I tried getting in there once and got thrown on my ass!" I shrugged.

"Constantine's...well known?"

"Hehe. Constantine... what kind of a name is that? It's sexy." she grinned. "Is he hot? Please don't tell me he's old and fat and smells like fish." I laughed.

"No...he's attractive." I said.

"Cool. Invite him over for dinner sometime. We'll order Chinese or somethin'. I'll hook you two up." I rolled my eyes.

"I don't think Constantine 'does' dinner with his employees." Sarah scoffed.

"You're a prude. Get the hell out of my kitchen."

"Shut up, I'll come down for a beer after my bath." Sarah smiled wide, that thought cheered her up.

"Good, hurry, 'cause I'm halfway there."

I walked up the stairs, letting my hair down from it's loose bun. I collected my favourite pink pyjamas. I felt like a little kid in them, but I needed comfort. Despite how warm the night was, an odd cold had settled into my bones. I ran a steaming hot bath, stripping down and looking at myself in the mirror.

I never had a bad figure-- I'll admit that much. I wasn't skinny, but I wasn't fat-- my friends always told me I had a nice body. I wiped my makeup off slowly, the steam slowly fogging up the mirror. I glanced down at my clothes as I turned off the tap, wanting nothing more to settle in and have a cigarette, maybe read a book for a bit. The rosary was lying half in and half out of my clothing; I looked at it for a long time. What was wrong with this picture?

My purse was underneath it. I frowned. When the hell did I bring that in here? Wasn't it on top of my jacket, downstairs, by the door? I swear that's where I left it. I picked it up. It felt heavier then usual. I unzipped it and my eyes widened. The book I had found under John's taxi seat earlier; the one about Demonology. I so didn't remember swiping it. A bead of sweat fell down my forehead and I wiped it away roughly. Shit, John was going to be pissed. As soon as I get called into work next I'll put it back.

Or maybe he'll fire me? Whatever, I needed to relax. I got in the tub, and brought the book with me. I kept the shower curtain open.

------------------------

Me and Sarah did have a few beers, but I crashed around midnight. She called up her boyfriend and they went bar-hopping around LA, probably the best past time and the best city for it, and even though I was invited, I didn't feel like going out. I curled up in Sarah's bed. I wasn't comfortable sleeping on the couch, not tonight, and Sarah wouldn't mind, and I would probably wake up with her lying on top of me in the morning, anyways.

I tried to sleep, but by three in the morning, I was still awake. The rosary was clenched tightly in my hand. I said each and every prayer. Upon the last word I whispered, my mind finally gave into my body, and I drifted into an uneasy, light sleep.

-------------------------

What bothered John the most was that Balthazar was back on the mortal plain. He had several questions; but that was the most important. What the hell did Lucifer have planned for revenge? Why the hell did Cheryl give him such a weird feeling?

It was not romantic, or even sexual. She gave him a bad feeling, almost. Something was very off about her. He was sure she was a good kid, she was pretty nice and she seemed level-headed, and she didn't appear very interested in trying to learn how to exorcise demons about of little children and old people that sometimes pissed on him in their extreme posession, and she had no prior history of mental or medical problems.

Why did she give him such a bad feeling?

Sitting at his lonely table in his lonely apartment, listening to nothing except the pipes clanging and the loud snicks of his Zippo as he cracked it open and snapped it shut repeatedly, he heard Angela's voice.

_"I'll see you around sometime?_" she had said. He could have fallen in love with the dark haired officer right then and there. But, he hadn't seen her since then. He had called her office once, but she was gone. New York City. How long? Who knows. She had been transferred. He felt the closest thing to heart break as he ever had in his life, but he kept his stoic stance in front of everyone. Whatever. She was just another woman.

His mind travelled back to Balthazar. Son of a bitch. He rubbed his forehead fiercely, lighting another smoke. Why not smoke himself into an early grave? He lost Chas, he had lost Angela, he was going insane on his mixed feelings for Ellie, he was falling into debt, he was going to be bankrupt soon, Beeman was gone, Father Hennesy dead, and the one responsible for all the chaos was already trying to rape his new driver.

He rubbed his eyes roughly. A pounding migraine came on. Fuck it. He was waiting to die, and how he hated that he couldn't just kill himself. He opened a fresh bottle of brandy and drank himself into a stupor, and passed out in the bath tub around three thirty.

He was awakened roughly around eight. The phone was shrieking. Cursing, he prepared to greet the caller in his most asshole-way possible. Who the _fuck _calls at this hour? He was barely out of the washroom when he realized he was going to have one helluva hangover. He grabbed the phone on the fourth ring.

"What." he snarled. He listened for several minutes of a panicked customer, hearing the blood throb in his ears. "Okay. Okay, miss. What's your address? Alright. I'll be there in two hours." he slammed the reciever down, called Cheryl. She sounded like she had just woken up as well. She sounded a little scared when he explained the situation to her, not like he couldn't blame her. He hung up the phone after he was finished.

He opened the aluminum curtains, listening to their semi-comfortable clatter. Sunshine poured in. He stood in the window, looking over the city. Was something big going to happen?

Hell yes.


	5. Part Five: On Earth As It Is In Heaven

Part Five: On Earth As It Is In Heaven

My stomach was knotting in coils and burns. I had just gotten off the phone with Constantine. My face was a lot paler then it usually was. I would have to catch up on my minutes at the tanning salon before my tan completely faded. I guess I was just distracting myself from what must have been impending doom, haha. My head joke didn't really bring a smile to my face, if anything, it made me feel even worse. Biting my lip and fussing with my foundation, my hand fell from its current job and touched the rosary in my pocket.

I threw up in the toilet before leaving.

Sarah wasn't home yet. I didn't mind. I made myself a fast cup of coffee, poured it into a thermos and was out the door and into my car. The seats were warm but there was no sunlight; clouds had crossed over in the past few minutes, maybe a thunderstorm was coming in. I looked up through the windowshield, at the blocked rays of sunlight trying to warm the world below it.

Maybe the clouds were like a hand. I blocked that thought from my wired mind and started the car, lighting a cigarette and pulling out. Time to get John. The streets were occupied, and I dreaded having to battle with moronic drivers, either still drunk or still half asleep. I scurfed into Oldtown LA, passing the same gargoyles and stone angels that had greeted me when I had first went to work for Constantine. Was it just me, or were those stone angels more cracked? Looked more... _worried?_

I wet my lips down and pulled in front of the _Bowl Bowl Bowl._ I parked next to the taxi, sipping my half-finished coffee. Should I go back up? Or will John come down-- There's my answer. He walked out the door, fixing the cuffs of his fancy black sports coat. I got out of the car, and he tossed me the keys. I caught them this time. "That's your set of keys." he said off-handedly. I noted that he looked worse then ever.

I got into the front seat of the taxi, putting my purse underneath the seat. I burned into my head that I needed to put that book back. I had read some of it; God, it was disturbing. Images kept flashing into my mind as Constantine read out the directions, and I just grunted shortly in reply.

To the suburbs, once again. A different street, though; Matthias Street, Central Oldtown. House 664. I pulled into the driveway and turned back to look at John, who was gazing out the window, as if looking at something I couldn't see. He turned back to me after I said his name.

"John."

"Yeah?"

"We're here."

"I know." he replied huskily, lighting a smoke and snapping his zippo shut. He sighed out the smoke, instructing me to pop the trunk so he could grab his tools. As I bent down, he spoke. "You know, I quit smoking before." he said, his voice rather odd. I turned back to reply but he was already out the door, and I pondered the words of his statement. Maybe he was drunk? Dear Lord, maybe I should just quit?

My hand was wrapped around the rosary once again.

---------------------

John entered the room, a hysterical mother and a shocked father tailing him. He looked into the room and let his cigarette smoke curl out of his mouth and nose. He turned to the parents. The mother was weeping into her husband's shoulder, her face the colour of ashes.

"You need to leave the room."

"Why?" The father said shortly. "It's my daughter!"

"Exactly." John shut the door in their faces. He thought about locking it but decided against it; he didn't want the police to come. Especially not after last time. He turned around, facing the ten year old girl. She was strapped to the chair, tied down messily with packaging ties and fishing twine. It was cutting into her skin, leaving blood splatters all over the floor, but it was for good reason.

To match her honey blonde hair, her eyes must have been sky blue, but now the irises had turned the colour of rotted cheese, the whites of her eyes lined with red and filled with inky black splotches. Her teeth had grown considerably, and her lips had been ripped to ribbons. Some sort of thick yellow fluid was leaking out of her nose and ears. John sighed. It was going to be one of those types of exorcisms; the worst kind. When powerful demons posessed the young, it was always the hardest to get rid of. He walked over to the window. The blinds had been shut halfway, and he ripped them off the hinges completely. A ray of sunlight had peeked through the overhead, looming clouds.

An unholy hissing sound left the girl, who thrashed angrily, her sweat-dampened hair flying about violently. Pulling out his small bible, he turned back to the posessed and walked before her, flipping through the thin pages of his bible before finding the right psalm and incantation. He said the prayer to St Micheal the Archangel, feeling the white power immediately filling behind him, the feeling of soft electricity building in his hands and behind his eyes.

He made the sign of the cross over the child, who screamed and nearly toppled the chair over. Her eyes rolled madly as he started to pray.

"In the name of the Father, and the son, and the holy spirit, amen." The posessed shrilled in pain, her head whipping back, spittle and blood rolling out of her mouth. John ignored it, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor. Waves of black power shot through him through the floorboards. In some unknown distance, he heard the screams of hell.

"Most glorious prince of the Heavenly Armies..."

"_Damn you, Constantine!"_ The demon roared, a deep male voice parellel to the child's, making a gruesome echo. John still ignored it.

"Saint Micheal the Archangel,"

"_BASTARD!_"

"Defend us in our power of principalities and powers,"

"_The girl will suffer for this!"_

John paused, surveying the demon, before grimacing and reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small vial. He popped off the top and splashed the posessed. The skin shrivelled and melted away, revealing an ugly green mask of the demon underneath the flesh. It snarled, yellow teeth reaching a good four inches in length. John was not phased.

"What girl?"

"_Your new bitch."_ A hideous smile curled on its mouth. The hair was peeling and burning away now. Black eyesockets with nothing to show except for two pinpricks of orange light shoved far back in the skull; God, it was like looking into the abyss all over again. John continued.

"Against the rulers of this world of Darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in High places," he smirked. "Ephitas, 6:12, asshole." He pulled out a keychain abhored with heavenly objects, blessed by the pope himself. He jammed his knee into the child's midsection, pressing the trinket's head against the demon's forehead. The metal carving of St Micheal slaying the devil glowed and grew red hot, but John didn't dare let go. He continued to read.

"God arises; His enemies are scattered and those who hate Him flee before Him. As smoke is driven away, so are they driven; as wax melts before the fire, so the wicked perish at the presence of God." he boomed. The demon's face retreated. In quick time, the girl's face returned, her hair growing back too quickly to be believable. John stepped back, for the powers of heaven could burn.

"_Bastard."_ the demon growled from deep within the throat of the child. "_I will skin you alive!"_

"Yeah, yeah." John put his chain away and pulled a heavy silver cross from the same pocket. He put it before the posessed, steading himself. "Behold the cross of the Lord, flee bands of enemies." The girl's right eye melted back to a sweet, honey amber colour. The other one rolled in her head like it was a fake, glass eye. "The Lion of the tribe of Juda, the offspring of David, hath conquered."

The demon spit, its dark green liquid hitting John square in the hand. He wiped it off the cross on his coat. Now he was pissed. He kicked the chair out from under itself, and it landed hard on its back. He stood over the child's waist, looking down at it, holding the cross towards the heart. "May thy mercy, Lord, descend upon us."

The left eye's iris shrunk into the tiniest pinpricks, before turning back to the same amber colour as the other one. It was working, thank God. "As great as our hope in thee."

"_The girl... she is His!"_

"What girl?" John asked, putting his foot on the child's neck.

"_She brings the scent of normality, and she will be stripped of it." _the demon smirked. _"The Dark Lord gets what he wants. And I will get her first."_ John's eyebrows raised, and then his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Balthazar, you worthless half-breed shit." he would have stomped on the child's face, but she was exactly that-- you couldn't get rid of a demon by stomping on its victim. "I'm going to deport you right back to hell!"

"_Do you think he's stupid enough to be exorcised himself?"_ the demon chuckled. _"I serve him. Satan has given him powers beyond all reasoning. He is unbeatable to a mere, suicidal mortal!"_

John threw his hand in the air and did the final count off, skipping the other verses. He was beyond fury.

"God of heaven, God of earth, God of Angels, God of Archangels, God of Patriarchs, God of Prophets, God of Apostles, God of Martyrs, God of Confessors, God of Virgins, God who has power to give life after death and rest after work: because there is no other God than Thee and there can be no other, for Thou art the Creator of all things, visible and invisible, of Whose reign there shall be no end, we humbly prostrate ourselves before Thy glorious Majesty and we beseech Thee to deliver us by Thy power from all the tyranny of the infernal spirits, from their snares, their lies and their furious wickedness. Deign, O Lord, to grant us Thy powerful protection and to keep us safe and sound. We beseech Thee through Jesus Christ Our Lord. Amen."

The demon screamed, and the unmistakable smell of sulphur filled the room.

And it was over.

John was blown off his feet by the power of his rage and the prayer he had viciously dealt to his enemy. He landed hard on his back about two feet away, and the first thing he heard was the sound of the girl screaming. The father flew through the door.

"HANNAH!" he boomed, bolting over, kitchen knife in hand. He cut his daughter loose and gathered her in his arms. She was crying uncontrollably, throwing up all over her father's business suit, but he did not care. The mother ran over as well, holding them both. They were all crying.

Sunlight was starting to shine in through the windows. It filled everything with warmth. Except for John. He collected his pay, a measly 300 hundred dollars. That would barely pay the rent.

But that didn't matter, not right now.

He went back to the car. Cheryl was sleeping behind the wheel, curled up.

----------

I don't know why John looked so pissed off. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell me.

I especially don't know why he yelled at me because the doors weren't locked.

I dropped him off at Midnite's bar, where he had wanted me too. But, as he told me to come inside, I had a feeling that this was very, very bad. While I had waited in the car for his nearly forty-minute exorcism, something evil kept probing the back of my mind. I had put the book back in its rightful place, but I still felt the urge to read it. I had, until I had fallen asleep and John had scared the shit out of me by slamming the door.

John got me in no problem, through some secret back door. It was daylight still, so no one was really in the bar, except for seemingly normal people.

"Midnite's bar is only filled with halfbreeds at, well, midnight." John explained gruffly. We walked up to a thick purple-leathered door in the middle of the wall, and he pushed it open.


	6. Part 6: Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

I suppose at this point I was expecting anything to be behind that door. In a way, I just wanted to tell Constantine to go fuck himself and then I would be out of here, gone, maybe even go back to my mother's. I wasn't ready for this. I had never been religious prior to my newest job; but this gave a whole new _meaning _to the word of God. As the plush purple door opened and Constantine placed his hand on my shoulder to usher me inside before him, I felt my stomach knot up to painful extremeties and I met the man behind the door.

He was a tall black man, built lithe but definitely in top physical condition. He was dressed in a snazzy, pimp tuxedo, in shades of purple and red. He had a long cigar in his fingers, expelling blue smoke and he had the most intense, brightest eyes I had ever seen. "John!" he said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here so early?" John put his hand on my lower back and pushed me in all the way firmly.

"I've run into a few..._problems._" He said. I looked around the gothically hip room-- this man lived in style. "One of them including _her_." Both men looked at me and I stared dumbly at John. What the fuck was he talking about now? "I'll introduce you two. Midnite, this is my new driver, Cheryl Buckman. Cheryl; this is Midnite, the owner of this nightclub and the most feared Witch Doctor of all time." He extended his hand and I took it. It was warm and powerful and he gave my hand a light squeeze, staring me down politely the entire time.

"Nice to meet you, Cheryl. How are you faring against John Wayne these days?" he chuckled and John sneered. Midnite cuffed him lightly on the shoulder and led him towards a circular table near the back of the room. Bottles of ancient wine and brandy circled it, three glasses downturned and waiting to be drank from. "Take a seat, both of you." I sat down beside John, unable to stop myself from giving John some odd sideway glances. Most of them plainly said John-what-the-hell-is-going-on. "Tell me, Constantine," Midnite settled himself down, unscrewing the cap off a bottle of bourbon and pouring a generous amount of liquor into all of their suddenly upturned glasses, "What your unholy problems consist of now?"

"Well, just this afternoon," John lit a cigarette. "I exorcised a rather odd demon out of a little girl. It said somethings that bothered me-- especially since Balthazar is behind most of it. And somehow Cheryl ties into it." John's eyes glowed a little, demanding all the attention in the room. "This demon said that Satan's given Balthazar amazing power; and we already know he was powerful before." He nudged Cheryl. She jumped. "He's already been at her once."

"Cheryl, may I see your elbow?" John stopped talking immediately and both of us just looked at Midnite for a moment.

"Why?" I asked, looking at John for help. He nodded. Shit. "Okay." Feeling nervous, I slid off my jacket and rolled up the sleeve of my shirt, showing the inside of my arm. Midnite took my middle forearm in his hand and looked down at my elbow. In the crease of it was a strawberry red birthmark. It spilled across my arm almost like a string of red paint, or wine, or blood. It was very thin and erratic, but a noticably strange mark. She had always had it. Midnite touched this mark.

"You've had this since birth?" he looked at me in the eye and I lowered my head a little.

"You already know the answer." I replied, seriously. "Right?" Midnite smiled, revealing two golden teeth amongst his canine white ones.

"Yes, ma'am, I do." He looked at John, turning serious. "However, I'm afraid our meeting's going to have to be cut a little short. I've suddenly remembered," he released my arm and stood up. "That I've got a big appointment coming up." he waved his hands, shooing us off.

"Midnite--"

"I'll see you later tonight, John." Midnite said, in a tone that strictly meant that the case was closed. John's brow darkened considerably and he ashed out his cigarette fiercely, frustrated from the lack of answers. I scurried to put on my jacket, and I shook Midnite's hand one more time before leaving. He insisted. He clasped my one hand with both of his. "Take care, Cheryl."

"You too." I replied, quietly. I followed John out of there in a hurry. The door shut behind me.

-----------------------------

After I had dropped John off and returned home from my altogether very tiring day, I dropped onto the couch and listened to the empty house as it listened to my rapid heartbeat. I felt sick. My ribs ached. I craved a cigarette. I got up, turning on the answering machine by the TV and trundled into the kitchen, yawning, letting my hair down. "_You have 2 new messages." _The robotic voice said. "_Message 1._" It was my mother.

_"Hello, Sarah and Cheryl, if either of you are home, please pick up. I'm just calling for Cheryl to tell her that her father's gone back to the hospital,_" I lit a cigarette. "Fuck." I said angrily. _"But it appears he'll be back out by next Wednesday. Anyways, I was wondering if you were going to be coming up for Easter this year; you two girls were at Bobby Nixon's house last Easter, if I remember correctly..." _Mom continued on and I stood at the sink, smoking and pouring myself a glass of sherry. The message ended with a beep, and then the next message came on.

"_Good morning, Cheryl. I think you remember me."_ My blood turned to ice and the glass of sherry nearly slipped out of my hand and I turned sharply, facing the hallway into the living room. The shades hadn't been opened and it was dark in there. My hand slipped into my pocket and pulled out the rosary. _Balthazar. _The beads gave me comfort. _"If John hasn't told you about your newest," _A dry, evil chuckle._ "'Fan', then it appears I'm going to have to tell you _myself_, but I'm sure you won't mind. You've been dreaming about me, haven't you--" _Cheryl ran into the living room and stared at the answering machine in fear. Her mind swirled. What the _hell _was he talking about? Her bowels felt loose and her eyes were getting wet. "_I suppose you haven't." _A soft sigh. _"Johnny-boy likes to take his time with things. And most of the time, he comes too late."_

There was a small click as the man on the other end hung up.

_"End of messages._" Another loud, long beep. For one violent moment of impulse, I almost ripped the telephone cord out of the wall. For a second I considered hurling the answering machine right through the window. I stood there, with a glass of sherry and a half smoked cigarette, eyes bulging and throat very dry. I felt sick all over again. Call Constantine. That's what my mind was saying, call Constantine, tell him to get over here and protect me. Oh _God, _what if that demon freak was _inside _the house? I picked up the phone in a hurry, dialing *69 and waiting impatiently.

"_This previous number cannot be reached with this message. Please hang up and try again--_" I slammed the phone down and stared at it for a moment. Then, I picked up the phone again and called John. It rang about four times. I let it ring and ring. Fear had swallowed me. Something unholy was happening, in this house.

On the eighth ring, someone picked up.

---------------

After Cheryl had dropped John off, he had lugged himself up the stairs, listening to their clanging echoes in the building. The walls were pockmarked and covered in graffiti, some of it none to gratifying. He walked down the carpeted hall. He may have lived here for bordering on five or six years, and he still never knew how the place, though dilapitated, had somehow still stayed clean, with no rats or overly large spiders festooning the place. He walked into his apartment, opening the windows and standing there for a second, leaning against the door and thinking hard.

What the hell did Cheryl have to do with anything? And what the hell was with Midnite and her birthmark? John had one himself, behind his left knee, a small grape-coloured mark that he barely noticed even existed. You could think that Cheryl's birthmark was only a crease in the inside of her elbow, nothing more, but apparently it was something important. Irritated at being kicked out at the crucial moment, John thundered over to the bathroom and splashed freezing cold water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror, beads of water dripping off his chin and brow.

A knock came at the door, busting him out of his thoughts. He was trying to remember _where _he had seen a mark like that before. It hadn't been on Cheryl. It had been somewhere else; something _thinner_, something like a-- the knocking persisted and John let out a low groan of irritation. Angered, he stormed back to the door and ripped it open, a what-the-hell-do-you-want just waiting to spring off his tongue. Instead, his mouth just hung open and he felt like a fool.

"A-Angela?"

The dark-haired woman smiled a little shyly, looking up at John.

"Hi, John. How are you?"

"Angela, what are you doing here?" he asked instead, pulling her inside. She certainly looked better then ever, in a black pencil skirt and a smart red blouse. He shut the door and faced her. Although he didn't show it upon his face, he was deeply pleased to see her.

"Well, I just got back from Manhattan, and I figured I would come see you." she herself sounded surprised to even be here.

"You should have called." He replied thickly. She shrugged. Her jacket was over one arm and she shrugged it from arm to arm, obviously becoming uncomfortable.

"Are you busy? I'll leave, if you want--"

"No, don't leave. You can stay. For a while." he smiled.

And maybe it was just coincidence, or maybe it was fate, but he kissed her with that smile.

Then the phone started to ring.


End file.
